


Pining with a Dash of Glitter

by martistarfighter



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Family, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia is Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon's Parent, Getting Together, Glitter, Good Parent Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Idiots in Love, M/M, Minor Triss Merigold/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Soft Jaskier | Dandelion, Yes that's an important tag, basically everyone is a sap because i say so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:36:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24760114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/martistarfighter/pseuds/martistarfighter
Summary: There’s generally an order to the intricacies of love. Jaskier happily mocks and defies rules more often than not, but even he knows better than to utter the words “I love you, marry me” out of nowhere.It’s just the effect Geralt has on him. Honestly,this man.This mountain of a man with a gorgeous soul and a sinful voice to boot. It’s his fault!A fluffy modern AU ficlet. You know the drill: Geralt and Jaskier are stupidly pining after each other. A birthday party and copious amounts of glitter are involved.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 11
Kudos: 279





	Pining with a Dash of Glitter

**Author's Note:**

> Heyhey, Geraskier people. My creativity is currently taking a long hike, but I thought everyone could use some fluff. I know I would.
> 
> So I’m posting this Tumblr ficlet from a couple of months ago. Just wholesome feelings and two idiots pining after each other! 
> 
> Let me know if it made you smile? x
> 
> PS: there’s a pov switch after the line break - first part is Geralt’s, second part is Jaskier’s.

* * *

**Pining with a Dash of Glitter**

* * * 

It’s a weird dance, this one they’re doing. 

It took them years to make the leap from tentative friends to actual, ‘let’s hang out at your place and have a beer’ friends. And that was all thanks to Jaskier’s stubborn efforts and failure to take no for an answer.

Now, though, they’re moving at a quicker pace. It’s been five, maybe six months, and beers have turned to cozy, homemade dinners, offhand phone calls, inside jokes, watching Disney movies with Ciri, the three of them huddled on the couch in a tangle of limbs, pillows and fleece blankets.

It’s another rhythm entirely and Geralt doesn’t know the steps. He’s so, so afraid he’ll mess it up. Because whatever dance this is, he feels giddy, basking in the gentle sway of Jaskier’s hips and the way his lips sing his name with a soft undertone.

It’s a Saturday morning and it’s one of Yen’s weekends, so Geralt drives Ciri to her place and leaves the two of them to their girls shenanigans with a kiss on the cheek and a wave. Then he stops by Jaskier’s place, because he promised he’d take a look at his shoddy bookshelf that’s on the verge of collapsing.

When Jaskier lets him in and chirps a jolly “Good morning, my valiant hero!”, Geralt’s gaze immediately falls on his cheeks. They’re dusted with glitter, and so are his nose and hands. The man is literally _shining_.

“Hey” Geralt just says as he steps in, figuring there’ll be a perfectly good explanation for this. Except that it gets even worse inside. There’s glitter on the floor and he can already tell the table is sticky with glue, sugar paper scraps and fuck knows what else.

“Jaskier,” he has to fight very hard not to snort through his next words, “why the hell is there glitter everywhere?”

“Oh, that! You see, I was working on the invitation for Ciri’s surprise birthday party” Jaskier flashes him a smile that could melt marble.

“What?” Geralt blinks, blindsided, “Ciri is having a regular birthday party.”

“Ah, that’s what she thinks!”

“Because it’s what’s happening?” He really, really hates how Jaskier can make him thoroughly puzzled in less than two minutes. No one should have that power. Least of all a man who knows the entirety of _Moulin Rouge!_ by heart.

Jaskier’s jovial expression never falters as he sits Geralt down, pours him a tall mug of coffee and explains his plan in depth. 

Because _of course_ he was wondering, why not give the party a surprise theme? And he’s already thought of everything, really.He woke up at five in the morning in a fit of creative genius and just figured he’d start working on it right away. After all, the birthday is only two weeks away.

“And don’t worry, the glitter is totally eco-friendly! It washes away like a dream. Look!” Jaskier bends over the sink and splashes a stupid amount of water on his face. 

When he saunters over to Geralt, some droplets of water are glistening on his face and reflecting the morning light. He looks younger, almost ethereal, despite the unruly hair and the pajama bottoms with little foxes on it.

Geralt is instantly overcome with a rush of emotion and _want_. Oh, he wants so much. Does Jaskier know? He must suspect something, because why else would he be torturing him with that mischievous look? It’s pure, sweet agony.

He must look like a fool. No, he _is_ a fool. Pining after a man eight years his junior and doing jack shit about it.

(Yen has used the word ‘pining’. It’s shamefully accurate)

“Do I even get a say in this?” He asks when he finally manages to put in a word edgewise.

“Of course, my dear. I kind of need your permission, and it’s your daughter’s birthday we’re talking about. I would never presume to spring this on you!”

“Right. Never happened before” Geralt grunts, but Jaskier is looking at him from across the table, chin propped up on his hands, and that’s all it takes, really. He already knows he’s saying yes.

They share a delighted laughter when Jaskier shows him the result of his early morning craft. It admittedly looks great, if a bit sticky. There’s even a doodle of Geralt and Ciri, dressed as medieval knights.

Despite the glaring presence of his toolbox, Geralt forgets about the shelf he’s supposed to fix. 

He’s about to head out when he realizes, but Jaskier doesn’t give him the time to get flustered about it, suggesting he stays for lunch. It’s only fair, since he distracted him with the birthday chatter.

“Hmm” he hums in agreement. Again, all too easily.

Every time Jaskier smiles that handsome grin of his, he silently acknowledges defeat.

He’ll never say it out loud, but — he’s never met someone like him.

And Geralt knows he’s in love with this man. It doesn’t come as a surprise. It’s a steady awareness that makes his toes curl. It’s the drunk, dizzy breath filling his lungs after a long run.

Because Jaskier is so easy to love. And maybe this isn’t a dance, after all. It’s two idiots sprinting down a hill, tumbling on the grass hand in hand.

**⭒✸⭒**

The surprise party is a resounding success. Ciri squeals in delight at the sight of her father and Jaskier wearing long capes and she is overjoyed when she discovers she gets _both_ a sparkling tiara and a toy sword.

That’s still one more toy sword in the hand of his child than what’s strictly necessary, as far as Geralt is concerned, so for a while he watches Ciri like a hawk. Jaskier finds the view so endearing that he could compose a song on the spot.

Sadly, that can’t happen, because they’ve got a dozen eager kids on their hands and Jaskier will be damned if he lets this day be anything less than glowing, sheer perfection.

Geralt will kill him if they have to deal with the complaints of an overprotective parent, so Jaskier puts on his performance smile and cries out “Lords and ladies, I’m taking song requests!”, brandishing his trusted ukulele.

Soon enough he’s strumming the notes of songs from _Frozen_ and _Moana_ for an enraptured, if slightly rowdy audience. He makes a show of twirling his feathered cap after each tune and he doesn’t miss the way Geralt guffaws at him.

That sunny laugh very nearly takes his breath away.

Yennefer and Triss stay until the birthday cake and are extremely helpful, even if Yen keeps pretending she doesn’t know the words from the songs. _What a liar_.

Jaskier still hasn’t figured out if the two women are dating. Yennefer shoots daggers at him for asking what they’ll be up to later, which is a very innocent question.

Still, they look adorable together. Adorable and only mildly terrifying.

The evening ends with a pile of presents, well fed children and a minor bruise on the knee for Dara, so Jaskier is ready to call it a victory.

And christ, he’s lost count of how many times he had to tear his gaze away from Geralt and keep his comments to a PG-13 level.

He’s seen Geralt with Ciri plenty of times by now, he should be used to this. He should not, under any circumstances, feel the desire to go down on one knee and offer his life to this man while they’re surrounded by a horde of kids.

There’s generally an order to the intricacies of love. Jaskier happily mocks and defies rules more often than not, but even he knows better than to utter the words “I love you, marry me” out of nowhere.

It’s just the effect Geralt has on him. Honestly, _this man_. This mountain of a man with a gorgeous soul and a sinful voice to boot. It’s his fault!

For the first time, being in love feels a tiny bit scary too. Because he thinks that _this is it_. As in, he dreams of a future when he can call this adorable family his own. 

And what if it sounds sappy? Maybe he doesn’t mind being a silly romantic at heart. Years of love songs and poems will do that to a man.

Jaskier manages to turn his full attention to the party, in spite of Geralt’s extraordinarily tight, black t-shirt — of course he ditched his costume right after the obligatory pictures. _Traitor_.

The real triumph is feeling the squeeze of Ciri’s tiny hands as she hugs their legs and says “Thank you, dad. Thank you, Jaskier. This is the best birthday ever.”

When all the guests have left and Geralt finally puts Ciri to bed with the promise that they’ll have cake for breakfast tomorrow, it’s already past ten. Which isn’t late by any of their standards, but the celebration has taken its toll and Jaskier feels wobbly and dizzy with happiness.

“This was such a wonderful day!” He’s spinning around the kitchen, broom in hand, as he and Geralt clean the better part of the mess that every party entails.

“It was” Geralt hums, pausing for a moment to look at him. He’s got a few strands of silvery hair plastered to the forehead and a ketchup stain on his shirt, but he is handsome. As always.

Jaskier is very tempted to elaborate on his comment. Because it’s becoming harder and harder not to spill the beans. And it’s not just a matter of physical needs, even though he’d very much like to get his hands on that toned body.

He’s just so _contented_ , and he can see that Geralt is too — he knows all the man’s tells by now. There’s just a different air to him, when he unwinds and he sheds his sober exterior.

Every single time he cracks a witty joke or he tells a story just for the sake of it, Jaskier feels his heart soaring to impossible heights.

“Phew! Oh, Geralt, I think I got drunk on apple juice. I feel giddy” Jaskier declares after five minutes or so, tying the last garbage bag and almost tripping on his shoelace.

“Doing shots with kids now?” Geralt quips from the sink, where he’s battling a pile of dishes.

Jaskier huffs and decides that he can be a little reckless tonight. He tiptoes closer and drapes himself over Geralt’s back, trying to reach for a sponge.

“Hey. Heeeey. Let me help” he whines as Geralt swats his hand away.

“Yeah, well, if you weren’t so _drunk_ maybe I would” Geralt turns and flicks off some water at him with a wry chuckle.

“Oh, you beautiful bastard!” Jaskier doesn’t back away by an inch and is pleased to note a faint blush on the tip of his nose.

“Why’d you call me that?”

“Bastard?” He teases, a cat-like grin stretching on his lips.

Geralt huffs and rolls his eyes, as if to say _you’re insufferable_. But the intensity of his lingering gaze suggests another train of thought entirely, and wow, they’re standing incredibly close, aren’t they?

_Fuck it, here goes nothing._

“Because you _are_ beautiful” Jaskier croons, taking Geralt’s still wet hands in his. They fit together so well. All they need is a messy kitchen, glitter, two tired smiles, and there. Magic.

He’s not sure which one of them moves first, but suddenly they’re kissing. A soft press of lips, then an eager chase. Geralt tastes like birthday cake. Vanilla and sprinkles.

Jaskier moans into the kiss as two strong hands grab him by the waist. Soon he’s overwhelmed by the sensation of finally, _finally_ crossing that invisible line together, and he has to gasp for air.

Geralt is staring back at him like he’s just unlocked the key to all the secrets of the universe.

“Wow” Jaskier breathes. Not to be overdramatic, but he feels like he could faint. Hence the lack of more coherent words. Again, totally Geralt’s fault. He’s even more stunning after being ravished.

Geralt chuckles, makes a keen sound and draws him in for another, longer kiss. This time he just tastes like Geralt. Which is to say, fucking amazing.

Delicious warmth trickles from their lips and sets Jaskier’s body alight. 

As first kisses go, this should be pretty standard. But he’s never felt so in love as he does now, and it makes all the difference. 

He runs his hands through Geralt’s lovely hair and he prays to every divinity to let him have this, now and forever.

“I should have kissed you sooner” Geralt admits, later, when they’re sprawled on the sofa and making out like teenagers.

“You are so right. You’re going to pay for that. This is an official warning. Geralt Rivia, you’re in trouble” Jaskier counters, before pinning the man’s hands down and diving in to nuzzle at the soft skin of his neck.

“Hmm. Bring it on, Jask.”


End file.
